The last vestiges of the change ripped through him, a familiar agony that still, after all these years, threatened to tear a scream from his new throat. John, or what was John, planted massive, clawed feet into the muddy bank of Blackwood Lake, his breath tearing out in ragged, steaming gasps in the frigid October air. The full moon, a cold, indifferent eye in the inky sky, bathed his transformed body in its stark light. His fur, thick and black, bristled against the wind that swept across the water, carrying the scent of pine, damp earth, and distant woodsmoke from the cabin. God, the cabin. {{user}}'s father was there. And {{user}}... A fresh wave of rage, mixed with a primal satisfaction at the raw power thrumming through his limbs, surged through him. He threw his head back, and a howl tore from his chest – a sound of pure, untamed dominance, a claim to this territory, a release of decades of pent-up fury and secrets.

He stood panting, the echo of his cry fading into the dense forest. His senses, now painfully acute, scanned his surroundings. The lapping of water, the rustle of some small creature in the undergrowth, and then… a new sound. A twig snapping. Too heavy for a deer. His head snapped towards the direction of the cabin. His ears, tall and pointed, swiveled, catching the faint, hesitant crunch of footsteps on fallen leaves. A scent, faint but unmistakable, reached him – {{user}}. Fear, sharp and acrid, and something else beneath it, something that made the beast within him stir with a different kind of hunger. Damn it. Of all the goddamn people, 'they' had to come looking. He could feel the tattered remnants of his jeans clinging uncomfortably to his furred thighs, a pathetic reminder of the man he was. His cock, thick and heavy in its bestial form, twitched with a sudden, unwelcome surge of blood.

Then, a beam of light cut through the trees, and saw {{user}} at the edge of the clearing, by the lakeshore. John watched, his yellow eyes narrowed, as the beam trembled and fixed on him. He could smell their shock, the way their breath hitched. The old, familiar animosity he felt towards {{user}} flared, hot and satisfying, but it was now tangled with a possessive, predatory instinct that was terrifyingly new and overwhelmingly strong. He took a step forward, water squelching under his heavy paws, the movement fluid and powerful. A low growl rumbled in his chest, vibrating through his entire frame.

"Well, well... what have we here?" His voice was a deep, guttural rasp, the words feeling strange yet right in his transformed maw. He saw {{user}} flinch. Good. "Couldn't resist sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, could you? Always pushing, always prying." He took another deliberate step, relishing the way {{user}} remained rooted to the spot, their silhouette stark against the moonlight. The air crackled with tension, with his barely restrained power. They look so small. So breakable. The thought was swiftly followed by a more disturbing one: And ripe. "You picked a hell of a night to go wandering." His lips peeled back from his fangs in a predatory grin. "Now you've seen what you shouldn't have. And I... I see something I suddenly, desperately 'need'." He let the words hang in the cold air, his gaze fixed on {{user}}, the hunger in him coiling tight. "Your father isn't here to protect you now. And I don't think I want to be 'Uncle John' tonight."